Category: Varanasi

I was nervous when I landed in Varanasi. It was the first leg of my trip that I was doing alone and the reality of the challenges I was going to face had started to sink in. However, once I reached my accommodation I calmed down and looked forward to exploring this city.

I began with a visit to the Tulsi Manas Mandir, where the great 16th century poet Tulsidas wrote his Ramcharitmanas, the Hindi version of the Sanskrit Rāmāyana. The mandir had a white marble interior with only the words and illustrations of the Ramcharitmanas covering its walls.

My next stop was Assi Ghat, the southernmost of the famous ghats of Varanasi. Here was the spot where emerging from the dusty streets onto the riverbank, I was able to see the Ganga in all its glory for the first time this trip. Humbled by the experience and making full use of paths that existed I continued down walking past the river.

One would think that the ghats would not be the best place to play cricket, with renowned and revered temples on one side and a river on the other. Yet, as I strolled down, I saw game after game being played. Ball hit in the river? No problem. The frequency of the boats going down the river meant no ball was ever to difficult to reach.

I continued walking and saw fires emerging from the ghats.

One reason why Varanasi is sacred is because it is thought that if you die in Varanasi, your soul attains liberation, moksha, and you will not need to be reborn on earth. Thus, from all around India people close to death, with their unbreakable faith in the divine, come to Varanasi.

Approaching the final ghat, Manikarnika, or the burning ghat, I was unsure whether to carry on, or leave and head towards the city. For this is the ghat where the bodies are cremated. This has been done twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for time immemorial. Someone started talking to me asking me if I wanted to see the ghat in more detail. At first I walked away, but as if reading my mind he looked at me kindly.

‘Don’t worry I am not a guide, I do not want money, I help here.’

Still unsure due to the nature of the ghat I stopped and thought. I realised I did not know if this opportunity would ever rise again, so I took it.

He was an elderly gentleman with a few front teeth missing, as most people that age in Varanasi tend to. He wore a wise face and explained the system, telling me it is his job to console families and stop them from crying, for tears in the ghat taint the ability for the soul to leave the earth. He showed me the fire, dedicated to Shiva, where all the fires in the ghat take their light from. Seeing this flame which has been kept alive for as long as cremations have been occurring, that means so much to so many, moved me.

The next day I visited Viswanath, the temple that embodies Varanasi. Its energy was tangible and the sheer number of people that were heading in its direction, made me wonder how significant this shrine could be. Looking back it is all a little bit of a blur. Tight security and long queues mean that everyone is rushed through. But in the few seconds I did have to appreciate the space I was blown away. This ancient temple, the abode of Shiva in Varanasi, has power that words can do no justice to.

My next stop was equally breathtaking, but in a different way. Sarnath, about fifteen kilometres from Varanasi, was the place where Buddha gave his first sermon, also known as ‘The wheel of Law’, turning the wheel of dharma, by speaking the four noble truths. It was filled with a wonderful calm that both my mind and my ears had missed. The spot, marked with a glorious stupa originally built by the King Ashoka in the 3rd century BCE, but added to around 500 AD, is grand whilst humble. With the sun shining it really was a sight to see.

Although close, it seemed a different world to Varanasi.  If Varanasi is home to Shiva, the destroyer, then it fits that Sarnath is known for its link to Buddha.  It is intriguing how the different auras of these two have manifested themselves so differently but so clearly.